Consciousness embraced Cody like a begrudging lover, accompanied by the unwelcome companionship of pain and soreness.
A dry groan escaped his parched lips as he gradually opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. The makeshift hospital in the cafeteria greeted him, a place that had become a sanctuary fraught with tension and uncertainty.
Dr. Newton sat nearby engaged in a heated conversation with someone – Raven. Their voices collided in a clash of opinions. "They attacked us!" Raven's assertive voice cut through the air. Dr. Newton, ever the pragmatic soul, countered, "What if that survivor is part of this?"
Cody turned his gaze to the left, where the survivor lay unconscious. Dogface, a stalwart presence, caught Cody's eye. "The kiddo is awake," he announced to the group, a subtle mix of relief and concern etched on his face.
Cody shifted his attention to the right and found Aya, asleep in a chair. Rose, vigilant and awake, reached for Cody's hand. Her smile, a mixture of gratitude and genuine concern, warmed Cody's weary heart. "Thank god you're awake," she whispered.
A dry inquiry escaped Cody's lips, "Is everyone okay?" Rose nodded solemnly, "Yes, everyone is. We buried Splinter."
A subtle nod of acknowledgment passed between them, acknowledging the loss that now weighed heavy on their shoulders.
Cody's gaze wandered to Ed, Mr. Peterson, and Andy, who had returned with a tangible sense of urgency. "Thank god we got those guns now. Seems like we are being hunted close to home," Ed remarked as he meticulously counted the ammunition.
Dogface, ever vigilant, protested, "They have the firepower. We have to defend this place." A sigh escaped Ed's lips as he uttered a sobering reality, "Say that to Splinter. The toughest of all of us. He's gone now."
Mars and Badger leaned against the wall, flanked by two other soldiers. Badger, the pragmatic strategist, addressed them.
"Clay, Elaine. I want you two to start scouting the walls. We need 24/7 guard watch from now on." Raven, the authoritative leader, nodded in approval. Priorities were laid out, walls and barricades topped the list, cars retrofitted with metal for cover, a strategic dance of survival.
Despite Dr. Newton's advice to rest, Cody sat up, wincing against the pain. "Hey pal. You gotta lay down," Dr. Newton cautioned. Undeterred, Cody asserted, "I'm fine. We have to prepare for an attack." Determination etched across his features, Cody stumbled to his feet.
Raven, recognizing the urgency, issued a directive. "Someone guard Cody." Mars, ever dutiful, raised his hand. "I'll do it." He sat up and cast a glance at the still-unconscious survivor.
As they prepared to step outside, Ed approached them, handing both Mars and Cody a gun. "For protection," he uttered, a tangible weight in his words. Cody nodded in acknowledgment, slinging the firearm over his shoulder.
Mars mirrored the action, and as Ed retreated inside the cafeteria, Cody seized the moment. "We need to talk," he said, his eyes locking onto Mars. An unspoken question hung in the air between them.
"Are you worried about that guy?" Cody inquired, probing for Mars's thoughts in the midst of the mounting uncertainty.
"That, and the smoke in the sky. It's been there for about an hour now," Mars informed Cody, his eyes fixated on the ominous trail streaking across the heavens.
The disquiet in his tone mirrored the unsettling nature of the distant plume that had emerged just sixty minutes ago.
The ominous plume of smoke acted as a macabre beacon, drawing the attention of the nearby biters like moths to a morbid flame.
Among them, a woman biter, distinct in her movements, turned her head from afar, a guttural groan escaping her decaying throat. The morose symphony of the undead echoed as she limped off, a procession of biters trailing in her wake, mindlessly compelled by the scent of potential prey.
What set her apart from the horde was a specific adornment on her finger – a ring with a glint of macabre elegance.
Carved into the diamond, a twisted S etched in gold adorned her skeletal hand, an incongruent symbol of a past life now lost to the relentless march of the undead.
Driven by some primal instinct or lingering memory, the biter guided her shambling cohort to an apartment building.
The structure, once a bastion of human life, now stood as a hollowed shell, a testament to the relentless onslaught of this new world. Holes riddled the facade, like wounds inflicted by some unseen adversary, and most of the rooms at the front lay exposed with walls blown out and roofs caved in.
Within this dilapidated sanctuary lay Stalker succumbing to the harsh realities of their existence. Unconscious and vulnerable, he lay sprawled on the unforgiving floor, a trickle of blood tracing a winding path down his head. The apartment, once a haven.
An hour prior, Stalker sat on a chair, his gaze fixated on the outside world, a realm fraught with uncertainties. Beside him, Andrew shared the silence, and their brief exchange resonated through the tense air.
"Hey," Stalker spoke, his eyes meeting Andrew's. "Hey," came the reply, a succinct acknowledgment that held the weight of camaraderie.
"How are you holding up?" Stalker inquired, his gaze momentarily returning to the desolate streets. "Just fine. You?" Andrew responded, their dialogue brief yet laden with unspoken understanding.
"Fine," Stalker affirmed, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of imminent danger.
The sudden roar of a tank shattered the fragile tranquility, and an uneasy anticipation filled Stalker as he awaited the presumed arrival of the military.
However, when the green tank turned the corner and unleashed a barrage towards the entrance, a disconcerting feeling gripped Stalker's senses. Unease settled within him like an unwelcome guest, dispelling any hope of salvation.
The thunderous impact of the tank's assault sent debris flying, chaos erupting as survivors scrambled for cover. A chilling gunshot silenced a fleeing survivor, their life extinguished in an instant.
Stalker, gripped by terror, screamed, "EVERYONE FALL BACK!" His pistol barked defiantly into the smoke, the echoes of groans resonating in response.
"THEY ARE COMING IN!" Stalker's desperate cry cut through the pandemonium. Zach aided Maddy and Jug up the stairs, the hotel's sanctuary now under siege. Andrew handed Stalker a rifle, a gesture of solidarity amidst the escalating turmoil.
Rudy and Zach assisted Jug while Lilah and Carter, armed and vigilant, navigated the halls. Another barrage of shells shattered doors and sent shockwaves through the hotel. Andrew narrowly dodged the blast, Stalker patting him in a fleeting acknowledgment.
A distant scream pierced the cacophony, and Stalker turned to witness a survivor ablaze, their anguished cries resonating in the air.
Without hesitation, Stalker aimed and fired, extinguishing the tortured existence. The horror unfolded before them, but the first responder to their predicament was granted merciful reprieve.
Meanwhile, in an adjacent room, loud bangs reverberated as a door succumbed to a barrage.
The intrusion revealed a macabre scene — biters concealed within, darts protruding from their necks. Stalker, adrenaline coursing through his veins, unsheathed his knife, determined to confront the lurking threat.
Zach rushed to aid as the grim reality unfolded – a family turned into biters, once familiar faces now twisted by the relentless onslaught of this new world. His knife plunged into their unfeeling flesh as a desperate struggle ensued.
One biter seized Zach's arm, sinking its rotten teeth into his wrist. The agony echoed through the halls as Zach screamed, the blade tearing from his arm with a sickening riposte.
Stalker, eyes wide with horror, swiftly aimed his rifle and unleashed a torrent of bullets, liberating Zach from the jaws of the undead.
The stench of death lingered as Stalker dragged the lifeless bodies away, Andrew joining the fray to pry the fallen door from its makeshift barricade.
"Fuck... we need to get you to the others," Stalker cursed, his hands moving with urgency as he wrapped Zach's injured arm in a makeshift bandage.